


A Change of Heart

by sherlexa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Kinda, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, i just really like angst okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 10:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13479471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlexa/pseuds/sherlexa
Summary: Draco knew who he was supposed to be: A perfect Malfoy, a Slytherin, a follower of Voldemort and, lastly, a Death Eater. But no matter what he did, he just couldn't stop caring.





	A Change of Heart

The storm outside was frantic and almost cruel in its force, making the sky and its clouds appear dark grey. The howling wind took trees with it, their roots too weak to withstand the continuous push and pull of the seemingly everlasting storm; branches and leaves were flying around, knocking into the walls of the castle and crashing into the ground before being picked up again, an endless circle of rising and falling.

 

Despite the furious howling and the raging storm, Draco ached to be outside. Ached to feel the leaves brushing against his clothes, to see them dancing in the wind, to feel the breathtaking onslaught of nature itself - he desperately ached to _feel_.

 

Ever since Draco could remember, his emotions had always been muted. He knew he cared about his family, he would probably even risk his life for them, but he always wondered if that was a decision he'd make because he _wanted_ to or because they had _trained_ him to. His love wasn't pure, it wasn't healing or simply loving another for whoever they were and respecting that. His love was a creation of someone else, something that was forced onto him, something that he didn't choose. Something that wasn't even _his_ at all.

 

The blond knew who he was supposed to be: A perfect Malfoy, a Slytherin, a follower of Voldemort and, lastly, a Death Eater. But no matter what he did, he just couldn't stop _caring_. His heart ached for every single person's death he witnessed in a way he couldn't quite comprehend because it never used to do that - it hadn't ached when he had been younger, barely twelve and already grinning widely with pure satisfaction before his father had raised his hand against their house elf, Dobby, simply because he had known it was going to happen.

 

And Draco wondered what had changed, why he suddenly seemed to have a _heart_ when he swore he never had, why he wanted to feel something, why he wanted to join the storm outside in all its loud rage and unconcealed anger, why he wanted to scream and roar until there was nothing left inside of him.

 

But the truth was, he knew the answer to all those questions. It was a simple name.

 

_Harry Potter._

 

 

\---

 

 

The brunette awakened such intense feelings within Draco that he never knew how to react to them, what to do with them. He had never felt anything like that, not before Potter, at least. And it wasn't always anger. Mostly, yes, but sometimes he didn't really know how to describe what Potter made him feel despite _intense_. He was aware that wasn't an emotion, but somehow Potter made him feel it was. Sometimes he said things that made him rage so madly that all he could see was red, but other times the Gryffindor said things that made him feel... something else. Something other than the constant switch between rage and numbness that he had grown used to, and Draco wondered when that had happened.

 

At first, he hadn't liked it. He still wasn't sure what he thought of Potter's ability to make him feel things with such an intensity, but Draco noticed that he actively looked for it now. For Potter's angry words that he addressed him with, for the balled fists that Draco mirrored as easily as if it was his own rage that made him do it, and he also learned to mimic the Gryffindor's rage as though it was his own until it _was_ his own. At first, he only did it to get a rise out of Potter because he seemed to be the only person not kneeling at Potter's feet and Draco couldn't stand it, but it evolved into something that was a necessity for the Slytherin.

 

He made him feel something when no one else could.

 

But he refused to think about it.

 

 

\---

 

 

It was infuriating. Not only was he paired with the most idiotic person in the classroom - a Gryffindor whose name he didn't remember because _Slytherins don't care about the other houses_ \- but he was also forced to listen to said Gryffindor engage in a conversation with Draco's most hated rival.

 

Draco tried to tune them out, to focus on the task at hand and occupy his mind with something else, but it didn't work. It never worked when it was about Harry bloody Potter. Whenever he walked into a room the blond was in, suddenly everything was about him, every single thought, _absolutely everything_.

 

Sometimes the Slytherin wondered if Potter was aware of the effect he had on Draco. Did he know that he made the blood in his veins boil with anger - or perhaps other emotions that Draco didn't recognize because he didn't _do_ emotions - the second the blond laid eyes on him? Did he know that he couldn't take his thoughts off of him, that for whatever reason he seemed to be some kind of all-consuming anchor that drew the Slytherin's attention to it? Did he even care?

 

He told himself that it didn't matter because he himself didn't care. Why would he? He hated that stupid Gryffindor. He always had and always would. Why would he care about what Potter thought of the weird obsession Draco seemed to have with him?

 

"Why isn't it working?" The blond heard Potter say, the frustration in his voice unconcealed and evident to everyone who listened.

 

A part of him admired the Gryffindor for being so stupidly brave and open with everything that he felt. He wore his emotions on his sleeves, ready to be perceived by anyone who wanted to. He didn't hide them -instead he made sure the whole world knew about them, uncaring of the consequences and what others thought of him.

 

Another part of him wondered if he had ever been hurt because of that. If someone had ever used it against him and showed him that his impulsive Gryffindor bravery wasn't always a good thing.

 

Draco wasn't sure what made him utter that remark, but for whatever reason, he suddenly found himself leaning over and saying harshly: "That's because you prepared it wrong. You were supposed to crunch the leaves, not slice them into large pieces. Can't you read?"

 

Their eyes met. Draco wasn't sure what he saw in those green eyes, but there wasn't only anger there. There was a softness in his expression that made him look away, a sneer on his face, pretending to focus his attention on his own potion again, but he still felt Potter's eyes on him.

 

And it didn't stop. He felt his eyes on him until Snape announced the end of the lesson and Draco hurriedly picked up all his things and left the classroom without looking back, forcefully thinking about anything else than what Potter's stare had meant.

 

But he didn't succeed. Instead he asked himself the same question over and over again:

 

_Why do I care?_

 

 

\---

 

 

Draco arrived late to dinner. He had spent the whole afternoon at the lake in front of the Slytherin dorm, occupying himself with throwing rocks and watching the beings that lived in the water swimming past him, minding their own business and letting Draco mind his. His thoughts had crossed Potter every so often, but he had tried to suppress them and, to his complete surprise, it had somewhat worked.

 

The Great Hall was already mostly empty, just a handful of Slytherins were left at their table. He didn't greet them because he wasn't friends with them - he wasn't friends with anyone anyway, since he didn't count Crabbe, Goyle and all the other Slytherins he only pretended to care about - and sat down as far away from them as he could.

 

He didn't want to see Potter, but he was hungry and he wasn't a coward. He wouldn't avoid the Great Hall only to avoid him.

 

When he looked up, he wasn't surprised to find the Gryffindor's eyes on him. What surprised him however was the neutral expression he wore on his face instead of the angry scowl he always met Draco's gaze with. His face was devoid of emotion, but his eyes curiously scanned over his face as though he was looking for something but hadn't found it yet.

 

Suddenly, Draco wasn't hungry at all.

 

He stood up and left.

 

 

\---

 

 

He was the first one to arrive in Snape's classroom, as usual. Snape barely acknowledged him, only giving him a terse nod and busying himself with some ingredients that he was preparing for the lesson. It confused Draco and made him stop right next to him, a faint ache in his heart at the unspoken rejection reminding him yet again of its existence.

 

When Snape responded by looking up at him, there was a detached coldness in his eyes that Draco had seen before, but never been at the receiving end of. "Mr. Malfoy, did you forget where your seat is?" Snape asked, his words spoken in a carefully neutral voice that didn't convey anything other than it was supposed to.

 

"No," he mumbled as a reply, looking away from those cruel eyes and seating himself.

 

When Draco had addressed Harry with a snide remark about the right way to prepare last lesson's potion, the blond hadn't thought that Snape would take this as evidence that Draco wasn't worth bothering with anymore, that he had changed in a way Snape didn't think profitable for either himself or Draco. He hadn't thought that Snape would drop him just like that, without even saying anything about it, without even addressing it. Without expressing his anger because that would at least imply that he cared to some degree.

 

Apparently he didn't.

 

 

\---

 

 

It was a weird thought, to be completely alone in a castle full of students. Of course he had never really felt like he belonged here, but he used to feel some sense of closeness and loyalty to Snape. Now that it wasn't wanted anymore, it made him feel lost, alone and scared.

 

Even now that he was surrounded by Slytherins and Gryffindors in Snape's classroom, he couldn't feel more alone. Some hidden, barely acknowledged part of him wanted to be at home with his family, with his mother and father, because even though he didn't know if he really loved them with the correct definition of the word _love_ , he still _belonged_ to them. They were still his people and he was theirs and he longed to feel that connection again while being _right there_ with them, not so incredibly far away.

 

He hadn't seen Potter the past few days because he had intentionally avoided his presence, but the second the brunette walked into the classroom, the usual numbness returned to his brain that made all his thoughts fuzzy and weirdly focused on the Gryffindor he hated the most.

 

And then, for the first time ever, Potter's eyes met his and his lips curved into a small smile, barely noticeable to anyone who hadn't memorized his every facial expression from looking at him too often, from staring too closely - but Draco saw it. Before he could fully comprehend it or even consider how to react, Potter turned away and sat down next to Weasley, leaving him alone with his confusing thoughts that were too fast and unfocused for him to understand.

 

Draco glanced up at Snape who was already looking at him, a sneer on his face telling him that he found him pathetic and pitiable. The blond didn't wait for him to look away and focus his attention on someone else, instead he shifted his gaze slightly to the side to look at the door, a sudden longing in his heart making him aware of the need to be anywhere but here even though _here_ used to be the closest thing he had to a home in Hogwarts.

 

It made him angry, furious even. At Potter, at himself, at Snape. Why was he so obsessed with Potter? Why had it changed him? Why had Potter smiled at him?

 

_Why do I care?_

 

 

\---

 

 

He liked the Owlery. It was quiet and empty in a way that didn't leave him aching for the first time in what felt like years. For the past few weeks, he had avoided this place because he knew that Potter spent a lot of time there, but frankly, Draco didn't care anymore. As long as his heart stopped aching when he was here, he didn't care about whether he'd run into Potter or not. The Slytherin needed a place that could calm him down and this just happened to be it.

 

The scenery outside the window reminded him of the last time he had been here - it was storming again, the wind howling with an anger that Draco could empathize with. But this time he didn't long to go outside. This time he didn't ache to feel, but to _stop_.

 

He just wanted to spend a few moments here with only the owls' screeches breaking the silence.

 

Of course his own thoughts would jinx him. Of course this was the exact moment that the door to the Owlery opened to reveal none other than Harry _bloody_ Potter.

**Author's Note:**

> This is only the first chapter of (probably) many more to come. I hope you enjoyed it!


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